Question:
IF Brenda has three apples and Paul has four, then Adric eats them all, how severe a beating will Adric get, and how does this relate to the fact that I own none of these characters, who are the property of Rumiko Takahashi, and Neil Gaiman?
Answer
very, and not a lot, so don't sue me!
What has come before?
While engaged in his usual Akane inspired acrobatics, Ranma was fated to die. However, due to a minor miscalculation on Death's behalf, She has accidentally gotten herself engaged to him. After long day of getting pounded on he has returned home to a angry Akane and a solicitous Death. NOW READ ON
Effexor entertainment presents
A Prozac production
Ranma: Endless Complications
Written and directed by
Someone Who is making this up as they go... ^^;
Episode Tertius:
"Family fun and games"
"Um, so what do we need to talk about?" asked Ranma intelligently as he attempted to peel his shoes off in the doorway to the Tendo home. It wasn't made easier for the mud deeply wedged into the ankles and toes.
"Well... Look it's complicated," prevaricated Death, "it's gonna be easier to sit down and talk this one through than just drop it on you. Really." She finished with a winning smile.
Ranma looked up at Death blankly, and nodded vaguely. Akane glowered. She wasn't happy about this... this... *FLOOZY* hanging around her Ranma, not that she wanted the stupid lug in the first place... Dragging her mallet behind her she followed them in to the main living area.
Genma and Soun were of course playing Shogi, although for once Genma was in his human form. He was also lying on his side, accepting plates full of finger foods from Kasumi, who wore a highly mortified expression on her face. It was clear that the eldest Tendo daughter was regretting her broom powered outburst intensely. Whilst she had been perfectly entitled to join in a certain amount of the chastisement, she had become totally carried away with herself... The main reason she no longer practised the art.
Nabiki was perched on a cushion, sat against the porch, a magazine idly held in her hands. From time to time she'd lick her finger and turn the page, then play with a lose strand of hair, before licking her finger and... Looking over at the content gave a totally deceptive reason for her glassy eyed staring into infinity, as the faces of the Three Lights, a new male idol group, were spread over the glossy pages. For some reason she would periodically look over at a wall hanging that hadn't been there earlier, and sigh.
Ranma sat down warily. His skill was with his fists not his mouth, and he heartily detested any confrontation where verbosity could overwhelm his ability to deliver pinpoint accurate violence to the one attacking him. It was one of the holds Nabiki held over him. That and the lingerie shots that he'd been too embarrassed to use as bait when attempting to overcome Happosai's moxibustion attack.
Breaking the silence Akane fairly crashed down at the table, her face stoic, her eyes livid, as she glared over at their latest guest with hawk-like ferocity. Not that she was doing this for Ranma of course. She just couldn't stand people who interfered with her life. She might be fond of Ranma at times, but there as NO way that she could love the stupid obnoxious perverted baka!
Death seated herself with quiet grace and looked at the two children seated opposite her. Sighing to herself she pondered where to begin.
"Well, I guess you're all wondering why I called you here today," she began brightly. Seeing Akane begin to warm up for an insult, she hastily changed tack. "It was sort of a family joke. Anyway... this is fairly difficult for me to deal with as well, so let me explain in my own way."
Ranma nodded, Akane closed her mouth, not willing to give an inch.
"I was here to take Ranma on after his death today - " began Death only to have Akane gasp in horror and attempt to leap at her, murder writ large in her eyes.
"You were going to kill him weren't you! Get him all to yourself that way! You can't have him, I won't let you kill him!" screamed Akane, thrusting the table away from her, and jumping at Death, her fingers poised to gouge eyes, when Death flickered, and vanished. Akane, robbed of a target, hit the floor, rolling with the impact and coming back up in a ready stance, arms raised, feet spread, eyes roving, mind offline ina haze of blood red rage.
Death reappeared at the far side of where the table had been, frowning slightly, a extremely displeased look in her eyes.
"I didn't try to kill him," she hissed angrily, "I NEVER kill! I take those who have died, but I do NOT kill! YOU do that!" she finished in a low cold tone. Akane looked across the room scornfully, barely hearing, merely witing to see that this wasn't another attack. Ranma leapt to her side, with slightly less than his usual alacrity, his eyes troubled by what Death was saying.
"Telute," he asked in a puzzled manner, while his body almost unconsciously assumed his favoured guard position. "What do you mean you don't kill - she does?"
Death smiled at the martial pair sadly, her eyes sympathetic. "What I mean Ranma is that I was there waiting for you to land in that pond and drown. The only reason that you didn't, is because I wasn't expecting to see a red haired girl fall in. You were unconscious in that pool, having hit your head on the Dojo roof on the way past - and who hit you up there...? I'll remind you - Akane."
Akane barely heard. So she hit Ranma, so what? He deserved it! Anyway, he'd always survived before, there was no excuse to call her a murderer!
For Ranma however there was quite another reaction. His arms dropped fractionally, and he shifted his attention from Death to the young woman at his side. A young woman who, he had to acknowledge, regularly beat the living hell out of him, tried to poison him on a regular basis, and absolutely refused to allow any deviation from what she wanted - reacting violently and without thought when provoked.
Ranma had to admit, Death had a point.
As did the Dai-katana that appeared from behind the new wall hanging thingy - Ranma being unable to tell his arass from his elbow. Looking down the blade he saw the angry figure of his mother. Flinching slightly, even though the business with the seppuku pledge had been resolved successfully over a year previously, he raised a hand and waved slightly.
"Erm... Hi Mom.... "
Nabiki nodded to herself. It was sooner than she had planned, but under the circumstances, she could quite understand Nodoka's reaction. Smiling to herself she murmured "Hold, a rat! Dead for a ducat dead!" Frowning she reconsidered; that was probably far to appropriate for the situation.
After all she'd miss her sister, even though she brought the whole mess on down on her head on her own. Worrying slightly at her bottom lip, she started to run though *any* plan she could think of to make sure that everyone survived this meeting.
There weren't that many that she could bring to mind.
Ryoga sat in front of a small campfire, naked while his clothes dried enough for him to dry off. After loosing Azusa, and retrieving his pack, he'd settled to the worst part of his curse - the wait for humanity to return. For Ranma this wasn't a problem, he was human whatever, and always had easy access to hot water. For Mousse and Shampoo matters were made easier by the fact that everyone knew of their curses, and would offer hot water almost instantly they were seen. Genma had hands, (well... paws, but they were good enough to use a tap, even a pen!) even as a panda, so he had no troubles either.
However for him the situation was poor. Unable to tell people of his curse for fear it would get back to Akane, he had to change back under his own power. This was rather more complicated than it looked. First he had to find his clothes, or one of the packs he'd secreted around the town in out of the way locations, or at least places that he got lost in a lot. There were quite a few, placed in a pattern across the globe that would have spelled out quite an interesting, and highly obscene, set of observations about Ranma... had anyone the ability to plot them.
Then came the truly interesting part - building a fire with his teeth, pouring his Ki into the wood, trying not to incinerate it - he frequently vaporised the putative firewood, and had to begin again. This was a problem that got worse with each failure, each attempt would be followed by a sense of uselessness and bitter disappointment and rage, fuelling his emotional fugue, making the blast harder to control. Still, once the fire was going, all he had to do was heat the small pan of water he carried at all times, and wait for his clothes to dry enough so that they wouldn't reactivate his curse. Thermos's were good, but not THAT good.
Ryoga had spent a lot of time perfecting this routine. He was now able to return to his human form in less than an hour, kami willing, and provided he could find wood, and his pack. [1]
He frequently spent these times waiting thinking of revenge on Ranma, or his love for Akane, but for once his thoughts took a different tack. Ryoga hated to admit it, but he was lonely. However, when he fought Ranma, there was a sense of completeness, something that was right. His Challenges were a mere formality, what he truly craved was the sense of camaraderie that came with the martial exercise.
More and more of late he'd pondered this question. What drew him back to Nerima? his desire for revenge had waned slowly. He (frequently) had had it pounded into him enough that it HAD been partially his own fault that Jusenkyo had happened. If his pride hadn't blinded him to his own inability to find places, he would have accepted Ranma's offer to take him to the abandoned lot for their fight. Instead his pigheadedness ...
He snorted. He finally knew why he'd charged blithely off after his friend to China. Friend. An odd word... But Ryoga knew that in a twisted sort of manner, Ranma and he were friends. Forged in the heat of battle, their two lives had twined around each other, each the reflection of the other.
Ranma was the quick popular one, with the arrogance, charisma and good looks, himself with his power, his strength, his isolation, low self esteem, homely plain face. Between them they made one martial artist, and that martial artist was one to be feared. Ryoga looked back at all of the kindnesses Ranma had shown him so thoughtlessly, to him, who had been supposed an enemy...
Ryoga sighed and leapt at the pan, knocking to contents over himself, returning to human in the middle of a forwards roll taking him neatly out of the fire. Pulling on his clothes, he considered again. When he'd been told of Ranma's near death... Near? If it hadn't been for a mistake then he would BE dead! He'd been horrified... He'd covered well, but deep down he'd known that without Ranma he was no-one. It had lead to his over hasty and overly violent reaction at the gate - he'd had to challenge his battling brother to reassure himself that Ranma truly lived. That didn't mean that he wasn't annoyed by the 'P-chan' comments however....
Still now all he had to do was return to the Dojo, and try to explain some of this to his brother. This close call was TOO close. Ranma had nearly died before... but when Nabiki had explained that Ranma was supposed to be dead, he'd rushed out barely hearing her explanation for his survival. All he knew was that this time was different. He couldn't return to his status quo. Finally he would have to admit to his friendship for Ranma. He couldn't let Ranma die with bad blood between them. Killing him with bad blood, yes, he admitted wryly, but just dying... it would be a travesty.
It had been fun tormenting him... after all, Ranma teased him enough, but beneath it all Ranma had never taken advantage, had often stopped to help him, and if he cut into Ryoga's mooning time over Akane? He'd pound him flat! After all - just because he was a friend didn't mean that he'd forget where the friendship had been forged.
In the battlefield.
Ryoga repacked his travel pack, and walked off humming quietly to himself. He walked left, left right left left right....and disappeared into the distance. He'd get back to the Dojo eventually. Somehow he always did.
AD 1698, Japan. Hokkaido.
Desire watched a young samurai closely. The warrior had the unerring ability to be where he wanted to be, cutting large swathes through the Ronin - bandits who had attacked the train his sworn liege. The train contained the entire taxes of the region, all bound for the Shogun's castle at Osaka. Already the train had lost half of the Samurai it had started with, but this did not deter the warriors. This was their sworn duty- to get the train to it's destination, or die, either in battle or by their own hands.
On the plain the man swung again, and allowed his back swing to gut the bandit who had crept up behind him. Looking around for an instant, he set off at a lope to the next cluster of fighters, already planning where he could be of most use. Desire was amused. The warrior stock this man represented could make a most useful foil for the man it planned to set it's sister with...
Looking around Desire nodded to itself. it would be a pity if this man were to die before he could have children. With a thought Desire manipulated the stock of energy that Destruction had allowed it access to before his departure. Focusing on the man before it, Desire imbued him with the chaotic power of Destruction. Not much. It would take a great deal of time for this to manifest itself, but it did strengthen his chances of breeding successfully. Desire chuckled, and vanished, leaving the fearful slaughter in its wake.
The train made it safely to Osaka. The young Samurai who had so caught Desire's attention was married to the neice of a powerful but poor noble house. The next day he left, with his bride and her maid for the north of Hokkaido. Once more they were ambushed, the samurai falling from his horse with an arrow in his neck in the first wave of the unexpected arrow storm. The Ronin were driven off, but the mortally wounded man committed seppuku with dignity, his wife as his second.
He was seventeen, survivor of a hundred attacks, and unquestioned in loyalty to his Daimyo. Even as he slipped into the great void his last thought was of the dispatches their group carried to their master. And his wife whom he regretted not knowing better.
She survived, as did her newly conceived son, to carry forwards the name of Hibiki Ota for future generations.
Nodoka stared at her son. Carefully composing herself she gestured him to one side, the tip of the blade glinting like the fangs of a cobra before the swift deadly strike.
"Son, I am glad to see you are well, however this killer cannot be allowed to go free - she has ended the line of Saotome, it is mere good fortune that you have survived. She must commit PAY for harming you!" she whispered, maternal urges warring with her love for the wild child of the Tendo family. It would be close to whether she struck in anger at the harm her son had received, or would allow her usual calm to steel over her, replacing the wild rage with wise counsel. Then again, this was Nerima, where wild rage WAS considered peaceful calmness...
"Mom, it was an accident - look I know she's a tomboy and she thinks with that hammer of hers but she didn't mean it!" Ranma paused. This was evidently not the right tack, his mothers fingers gripping the hilt of the sword in a spasm of cold anger, knuckles turning white under the pressure.
"Would that comfort me at your grave? Would that please you in the afterlife?" Asked Nodoka calmly, her eyes still locked onto Akane, who sat beneath them, pinned like a butterfly on a board. Across the room, Soun sat and wept. For honour he could do nothing. Nodoka was quite right. He hoped that she would not force his daughter to use the tanto her mother had ended her life with when the pain had become intolerable, but for once, he found himself held immobile by the very honor that he had used to bring the two together. He lived his life by an Edo period concept of duty, and it was about to turn about and bite back...
Genma watched impassively. He knew his wife. As long as no blood was spilt now, they could fix the situation. He hoped. Absently he swiped a number of Soun's shogi tiles, the hand moving with no feedback from his brain. His whole attention was fixed upon the drama playing in front of him.
Death watched in passive calm. However she didn't get the sense that anyone was to die soon, so she just sat and waited for her chance to speak. After all, until this was resolved one way or the other, she wouldn't have their full attention for the talk she needed to have with them...
"Mother," began Ranma formally, sensing this was the way to go, "Akane Tendo is my iinazuke. I will not let you harm her for an event that was avoided. I am well, and she has learnt her lesson... " A sharp jab in the ribs woke Akane from her stupor, the mallet raising into the air almost by itself....
Akane looked at the tool blankly. If the lady in black... what had Ranma called her? Telute? If Telute hadn't messed up, she would have killed him! Her berserk rage had gotten hold of her again... and this was the symbol of it... She had been about to hit Ranma for the jab, but surely that would have infuriated his mother... and would have demonstrated how little she was able to learn from her actions, how driven by the beast that the art had failed to tame...
Akane stared at the mallet held at shoulder height in front of her. With a swift decision, she swung it down, bringing her knee up. It shattered along the handle.
Proffering the lumps of her signature weapon, her eyes downcast, and her tongue laden with shame, she nodded and spoke.
"Hai, Saotome-san. Hai. Gomen nasai..."
Nabiki breathed a sigh of relief as Nodoka put up her blade, Weighing Akane with her eyes, before slowly nodding and sheathing it. It had been close for a few moments, but with luck this would turn out correctly, and everyone would be happy... Well... A girl could hope?
Actually she was relieved beyond belief. She had begun to write death poems for her youngest sister when she had begun that swing, but she had been impressed with the way she had recovered from her anger, and shattered her weapon. Nabiki knew of the rage that drove Akane. She shared in it in some manner - a legacy of their parents. Kasumi controlled it tightly, holding herself in, burying every unpleasant emoion, scared of the results if she let it slip - as this afternoon had shown.
Actually thinking about it, she'd been a lot freer in venting before the arrival of the Saotomes. Nabiki compared the irate siter who'd bawled Genma out for taking Ranma to Jusenkyo with the valium version that she saw these days... Nabiki sighed internally. Yes Kasumi was a nicer person these days, but she was also less of a person. The young girl who had once frowned in irritation and grumped about the ages of a possible mate had died and been replaced with a stepford wife. Yes, she definately woud have to do something about Kasumi while it was still possible...
Switching tracks Nabiki considered her younger sister. Akane had never been able to really controll her temper, always let it have free play, almost as if trying force the world to come out her way. Her training in the art had been counterproductive as well - allowing it's destructive potential free reign instead of controlling and negating the anger. Not to say that Akane wasn't a compasionate and warm young girl. She just had a filthy temper, and never, NEVER would let herself be contradicted.
And as for herself? She dealt with it by sublimating it. By allowing it controlled access through her periodic mercenary ventures she found herself able to keep a level balance, between the fear of her own soul of her eldest sister and the rage against the world of her younger.
Nabiki finally began to breath normally again, and turned her attention to the magazine in her hands, daydreaming softly of the cute specimens of manhood on the glossy pages. Of course, being Nabiki she allowed herself to listen to the room with one indifferent ear, her perfect memory for indiscretions would allow her to record any major slip-ups. Life was good.
She let herself go into the dream of a mansion in the hills overlooking Tokyo, with a rich husband, and a young child of her own....
[1] I've been told that I've been watching too much Dragon ball Z here - but I live in the UK where we don't get that (unless you have cable - and I don't even got a tv signal *sighs*) so let me point out that a ki attack is more of a wave of heavy air, rather than a blast of heat. However I'm leaving this here since ki attacks have been known to cause fires - and a Ranma specialty (the Hiryu Shotén Há) relies on heat generated by ki (chi, qi, whutver). Anyway, if you're gonna pick 200lbs of ryoga up and hurl him high into the sky on a jet of bad temper, he's GOTTA get hot *sheepish*
Who'm I kidding - I just don't wanna re-write that bit! *laughter* but don't get the idea it's cannon, because it isn't!
[Valor Phoenix's note] Ki in Ranma 1/2 is 'Hot Air', it's part of the joke of the Shi Shi Hokoudan part. It's also apparently charged with Ki and dense(heavy), but that's more a technical issue.
Authors notes
usually flat and out of key
I was a little worried over this one - I kinda got writers block in the middle, along with a visit from my younger siblings... it's a real pain trying to write with people sleeping in the front room... especially considering I do my best work at 2am in the morning *smiles*
Anyway, I'm still trying to work around to the point where Death will drop the bombshell over Ranma, but bear with me - we'll get there!
Sorry 'bout Ota... but it was a brutal time. And the endless haven't finished with the cast yet. next up, our favourite crossdresser!
Not much else to say, sorry if this one is a little disjointed, but I hope I got the inner feel of the characters right - I've always been fond of Ryoga (those fangs are CUTE!) but I do apologise if I've stolen anyone's thoughts on him. I seem to recall reading a similar sort of inner soul search elsewhere, but I can't bring it to mind - Gomen, and thank you for setting me on this particular path, I think he deserves it.
And I'm sorry for saying sorry so much *
Everyone who replied to this thing - I love ya!
Bailesu-Sama, Hosmer-San, you're my heroes! now finish up Z19!
Again, I own no rights to any characters. don't sue me. Please. I can barely aford bread right now.
Email to Kathy
22-04-00 - 31- 5 - 00
Revised 19 - 8 - 00
Final draft 6 -10 - 00
HTML Version by ValorPhoenix 2002-02-09